The Death of Me
by I-write-hurt-not-comfort
Summary: It hurt. There's nothing else he could do about it. He doesn't want to tell Miharu, either, but the weight of what he did the previous night sat on his shoulders like a rock. Yoite never thought he'd sink that low, and the next morning, he still can't believe he did. One-shot / no pairings / Rated M for drugs.


_**(A/Ns: It's my first Nabari No Ou fic! I watched this anime/read the manga a little while ago, and i thought it was just so sad, and i had to write for it. I've had this idea accumulating for a while, so i decided to combine it with some structural techniques. It's a depressing sure, but... Yoite is so angsty i love him. I guess this takes place at some point around vol 9? I didn't really think too much about it ngl. This is quite short compared to my other fics, but eh.**_

 _ **Please review! This is a one shot so i will not be adding any more chapters, but all reviews are appreciated :3**_

 _ **Trigger warnings: Strong depictions of drug use, reference to addiction.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Nabari No Ou or any of the characters)**_

 **~The Death Of Me~**

It hurt.

Groggily, Yoite opened his eyes just a crack, the dim yet blinding morning light invading his vision and sending a throbbing pain through his skull. Before he even moved, he could feel the toll of the previous night's decision.

His muscles felt as though they were being torn apart one by one, each fragment being ripped off in tendrils. His head felt like a brick had been implanted inside his skull; a brick which sent electric-like impulses rushing through his temples every other second, to be specific. Before he even sat up, he could tell that the task wouldn't be easy, his limbs effectively glued to the floor.

What time was it?

Eventually summoning the will-power to sit up, Yoite lifted his arm, the effort of doing something even that minuet sending another wave of pain surging through his forehead. His face scrunched up in agony, panting silently before finally lifting his head, and then after that, his entire body.

It was only at that point did he realise where he'd slept: the ground. Barely a metre away from him, a large puddle had accumulated on the pavement, the drizzling rain still coming down lightly. It didn't matter though, since his clothes couldn't get any wetter than they already were.

Where were they?

Yoite glanced around, trying to muster up as many memories as he could of the previous night. All he could conclude was that he was in a park, a bench to the right of him and a bin to his left. On either side of the path, there was a sparsely vegetated forest, a few trees scattered and held together by bushes. The sky was completely clouded over, thick, grey rain clouds hanging low and looking down on him; threatening a thunderstorm fairly soon.

Directly above him, there was a tree, the leaves still dripping directly down onto him. He didn't care, though. The sun wasn't bright enough to be any later than about 5am, a low dullness still painting the sky and the emptiness of the park indicating the day hadn't started yet. Yoite was grateful for that in every way possible.

Where was Miharu?

Stiffly, he turned his neck to the right, straight away spotting Miharu and letting out a sigh of relief. He was drenched too, however since his coat was waterproof – in comparison to Yoite's – he'd managed to stay at least partially dry in the downpour. The teen was still asleep, his chest rising and falling despite their location; he must've been exhausted.

Yoite shifted, placing both feet on the ground and standing up shakily, leaning dependently on the bench. Immediately, his muscles screamed for release, but instead he kept going, standing up completely and waiting for his head to stop spinning. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, shutting his eyes for a few seconds and trying frantically to gather what few memories he had.

What even happened last night?

Suddenly, however, the realisation hit him like a rock. Hastily, Yoite dove towards one of the trees, well away from Miharu before collapsing backwards against it. His breathing was laboured as he tried to stay silent, not wanting to awaken and concern the other.

A few seconds later, however, his eyes doubled in size, a pained retch erupting his throat. He leant over the bush, throwing up painfully. After only 30 seconds of emptying what little was in his stomach – namely bile and acid – he'd been reduced to dry heaving. His legs grew weak, as he doubled over in pain and fell to his knees.

He'd remembered everything.

Yoite gritted his teeth in an attempt to remain silent; he wasn't ready to talk this through with Miharu yet – or ever, at that. Shakily, he shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out the empty blister pack of painkillers and cursing himself. He threw it aside, clambering onto his feet once again and wandering away, hoping a walk might clear his head a little bit.

It was to no avail, however, as he arrived at the same bush he'd arrived at yesterday, no longer than 6 hours ago at most. Sitting down against one of the trees, he buried his face in his knees, his arms wrapping tightly around his legs in a feeble attempt to stop the shaking.

It was torturing reminder of the situation him and Miharu had been in last night.

At about 10pm, and after several hours of wandering aimlessly looking for someone to stay after all the trains had passed, they'd ended up in that park. Miharu had almost passed out from exhaustion, and Yoite was in great pain, worse than usual; the _Kira_ was sure taking its toll that night, for some unknown reason.

Miharu had been dead set on the idea of staying awake with Yoite until he fell asleep, genuinely concerned at his apparent agony. Yoite rejected the offer, however, and – despite all his efforts – Miharu was out cold within 5 minutes.

He'd only had 2 of the painkillers left, and they weren't working.

At all.

His efforts of sleeping peacefully were in vain, and Yoite was left with no other option than to get up, and wander around, hopelessly begging the pain for dissipate just a tiny bit, so that it was at the very least endurable.

That's when-

"Yoite?"

Yoite froze, immediately being hoisted from his thoughts. It was Miharu. He sounded slightly different than usual, a disappointed edge added to his words, one which Yoite very rarely heard.

"Miharu…" the other responded quietly, looking up gradually.

"What did you do last night?" Miharu asked interrogatively, and it was quite obvious he knew something had happened, "I know I fell asleep, but…"

"Nothing," Yoite lied, but the guilt in his eyes said it all.

"I found this by the bench where we slept. Well, I slept there, at least."

Miharu paused, the hair falling in front of his face as he dug around in his pocket for a moment. Yoite tried to play innocent, however all attempts to do this were dropped the second Miharu pulled the object out of his pocket and held it up.

It was a syringe – _the_ syringe – from the previous night.

 _The_ syringe, from 6 hours ago.

Whether some of the high still remained, Yoite didn't know, but the sinking feeling in his heart felt as though the comedown had struck abruptly, right at that moment. Miharu knew.

He was so _stupid_.

"I…"

"Yoite…" Miharu sighed, hurling the empty syringe into the trees and sitting down next to the other. He took a deep breath, exhaling a sigh before continuing. "What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter," Yoite dismissed nonchalantly, fixing his eyes on whatever was straight ahead in the distance.

"Yoite," Miharu repeated, "Tell me."

"You don't need to know."

"But I do. I'm allowed to be worried. If you end up hurting yourself and dying, I can't grant your wish."

Yoite frowned, catching a brief glimpse of his hands; trembling against his feet. "You shouldn't be worrying about me,"

"What did you take, Yoite?" Miharu questioned again, forcing eye contact with the other, "Or are you still on it? Yoite, look at me."

Reluctantly, Yoite tilted his head to the side a moment, Miharu's dull green orbs staring directly at him. Another frown tugged at his lips, before he averted his gaze once again. It only took Miharu one glance to tell that, whatever Yoite had taken, still hadn't entirely left his body.

"What was it?" Miharu intervened, his tone firmer with a hint of frustration, "At least tell me what happened, Yoite."

Yoite knew he couldn't deny it much longer, as he slowly confessed, "Um, after you fell asleep, I wandered off, hoping for the pain to clear just a little bit. I… ended up here, and collapsed, but I was still conscious. There were… these two people, and they found me. They offered me something, to help the pain. I wasn't thinking."

"What was it?"

"I think… it was heroin," Yoite admitted, "They handed me the syringe, and I… injected right here. I crawled back to where you were, and just… passed out there."

Miharu's eyes widened at the revelation. Whatever it was which was holding back his protective instincts for the other, the barrier broke at that moment. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that stuff is?"

"No. I don't really know what it is. I just know the name."

"Yoite, it's an illegal drug. And… it's… it's really addictive! It'll kill you, and you're only 16. Why are you so hell-bent on hurting yourself? Do you want me to grant your wish or not? Because, I can't, if… you off yourself first!"

A pang of guilt ran through Yoite, followed by a shudder, which ran down his spine alarmingly. The look on Miharu's face was not the one you'd expect to see on someone who'd just discovered what he had. Instead, it was an expression conveying genuine concern.

Yoite chose to remain silent, trying to convince himself that the constant hammering in his head and twitching in his hands wasn't part of the cravings.

They weren't, were they?

"Were you really in that much pain?"

Subtly, Yoite nodded, turning his face back to the floor and muttering, "I'm sorry, Miharu."

"… Do you regret it?" the other asked.

"I don't know," Yoite replied, his response barely audible.

The two were plunged into an awkward silence, lingering over them like a dark cloud. It had started raining heavier again, too, the clouds implying that the storm was now directly above. The tree branches provided enough shelter, a harsh, morning breeze ripping through the air and sending a shiver down Yoite's spine.

"Do you want my coat?" Miharu offered, "I don't know if you're shivering because you're cold but…"

"No, you keep it," Yoite responded softly, another burst of sadness flooding into his conscience. He was undeserving of this type of kindness. "Why aren't you mad at me?"

"Truthfully, I don't really know," Miharu chuckled light-heartedly, "I guess… I can't bring myself to be mad at you, when… you didn't really have much of a choice."

"Yes I did," Yoite countered, "I could've said no. But I didn't, because I'm-"

Miharu held his hand up, cutting the other off mid-sentence. "Don't go saying more bad things about yourself now. I already told you; I'm allowed to be concerned if I want, and that's that."

"Okay…"

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the sun now rising fully behind the clouds. It wasn't obvious because of the huge rain clouds concealing the light, but it was still there nonetheless. Rain continued pouring down consistently, crashing into the puddles and soaking the grass.

"I think we should go now," Miharu said quietly, pulling his hood over his head and allowing a few strands of hair to remain hanging over his face. He lifted his watch, glancing down and reading the time. "It's nearly half five. The trains will start soon, and we've still got a long way to go. If you're okay with that, obviously."

Yoite bit his lower lip hesitantly, his stomach churning in the same sick way it did earlier. "Can we stay here, just a little bit longer? I don't think I'm ready to leave yet."

Miharu nodded acceptingly, shuffling closer to the other. Yoite froze for a moment, before taking the hint. His head lulled gently onto Miharu's shoulder, the other not moving a muscle underneath him.

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Miharu declared, "If that guy returned, then… you might do it again."

Yoite didn't respond that time either, afraid to admit to the truth; the truth being that he would without hesitation.

What was he going to do… now that he had another thing which would be the death of him?

 _Fin._


End file.
